


The Elegant Lady Maria's Nail Salon

by gootarts



Category: Umineko no Naku Koro ni | When the Seagulls Cry
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 07:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19824961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gootarts/pseuds/gootarts
Summary: There were, strictly speaking, two things that Battler was weak to: the first being vehicles, and the second being a loving gaze from his wife.





	The Elegant Lady Maria's Nail Salon

**Author's Note:**

> y’know how sometimes kids will just go absolutely feral for painting nails for no real reason? yeah.

Battler, like he was on most lazy days, was parked on a couch with a book, a blanket, and a half-written manuscript. The place he liked to read and write was reasonably tucked-away, such that five servants going in and out of the room in an hour was strange. Especially when it was the likes of 00, Bephegor, and Satan, all chatting animatedly among themselves. 

He didn’t want to interrupt, so he left them be in favor of pestering the next human, demon, or questionably-human being to pass through the room. As luck would have it, that was the twenty-seventh ranked demon, Ronove. 

“Ah, Ronove. Is anything happening?” For the demon,  _ happening _ could mean anything from murder to a very nice deal at the local farmer’s market on the screams of the damned. It could be a dice roll, at times. 

“Pukukuku, did you not hear that Lord Beatrice issued a command to all the servants to report to the smoking room?” He stroked a nonexistent beard, the single thing marring his otherwise perfect posture. 

“The smoking room?”

“Correct. Granted, she insisted it was not urgent, so I decided to take my time cooking and cleaning the kitchen for dinner before wandering over.” 

“In other words, you wanted to be there fashionably late if she was displeased with something.” 

“You truly understand a demon’s mind, Lord Battler.” He politely chuckled again before heading back to open the door; despite the magic flowing in his veins, Ronove always seemed to prefer a more elegant, practiced march to simply dissipating for travel. It was strange, but considering that a good half of his salary probably depended on giving off a veneer of elegance for guests, it made some bit of sense. 

Battler went back to the book; Beato would summon the servants sometimes for whatever reason (previous reasons included: a surprise birthday party for Ange, a weekend vacation to Will’s place, and so-called ‘rubber ducky tests’ for her mystery manuscripts). It was just a thing that happened. If she needed him there, he would’ve been summoned already. 

After seeing Mammon pass by a moment later, on the other hand, any notice about being uninformed wore off rather quickly.  “Lady Maria and Lord Beatrice want you in the smoking room,” she said curtly. 

“Both of them?”

“Lady Maria wishes to refine her skills, and requests your presence for that purpose.” That sounded weird, but Mammon wasn’t the type to lie, especially not to a lord. With a groan, he got up, holding his head as the tunnel vision from reading wore off before thanking the stake. 

He didn’t really have any idea what Maria and Beato were planning, aside from maybe using him for target practice or something. Beato had a firmer grasp of magic than he did, so she was the main tutor for Maria. But, when he cracked open the door to the smoking room, that was definitely not what the two of them were doing. 

Maria had turned the smoking room into some sort of makeshift salon; the windows, normally used to broadcast the games, were playing some sort of cute animal compilation from another fragment. The table was expanded to the size of a full-family dining table, maybe half the size of the main one on Rokkenjima. The surface was covered with all sorts of things; towels, tape, and piles upon piles of nail polish as the almost acidic smell of nail paint made him wrinkle his nose. And his lovely wife, in all her glory, was lounging on one of the chairs as Maria hovered over her with a bottle and a brush. 

“Ah, Battler! Take a seat, take a seat,” Beato was surprisingly chipper as she held her hands still for Maria to paint. “We have a lot of colors for you to choose from!”

“C…olors?”

“Maria is painting everybody’s nails, uuu!” Her happy face glanced at the bottles of polish on the table; one color that seemed to match each Stake and Chiester, with several left over. 

“I don’t need my nails painted,” he pouted, slumping down in the chair regardless.

“But it looks pretty, uuu.” Maria, unsure of why any human would ever turn down an offer to paint nails, gave him a blank look.

Beato, glancing over at the conversation, only gave a half-smile as she glanced over at Battler. 

“I, personally, think they would make Battler look rather  _ handsome _ . And it would make good practice for Maria. Fine motor control is important to develop in witches.” The glance, soft and warm as the honeyed  _ handsome _ slipped from off her tongue to caress his ears almost glazed over the second half of the statement. 

“I-is that so?” Damn you, heart! Damn you, soft gaze from your wife! 

“Mmmm. You have nice nails. They’d look nice with polish on them.” There’s a bit of a teasing smile, an  _ I know you’re fishing for compliments _ -type. He wasn’t  _ trying _ to be pushy, but there was just something to Beato complimenting him sincerely and casually like this that made him want to try and brush it off and look away as his heart fluttered. 

“A-ah, but I don’t think I would want something really flashy.” 

“You could get a natural color. Or an elegant one. What do you think Maria?” 

“Black is nice, uuu. Ronove got shiny black.” Ronove also wore gloves all the time! That didn't count!

“You’re right, it would be pretty. It would match the cape, too.” He didn’t pretend to know anything about what Beato was talking about as her words covered him. If she said it would look nice, though…

"I-I'm the territory lord, though! Wouldn't this be demeaning?" He really hoped the expectant gaze he shot at Beato wasn't _too_ embarrassing.

"Hoh? One who helps their spouse's apprentice learn is endearing, if nothing else."

"I mean..." He trailed off for a moment as she grinned again. 

“Changed your mind, Battleeer? If you don't like it, changing it up with magic would be easyyyy.” That last word slurred in her mouth like a fine wine, showing off those fangs that were gently biting into his own beating heart. 

Ah, useless, useless. 

Maria gave another blank stare, the subtleties of how exactly Beato’s soft womanly charm got him to change his mind flying over her head. “Battler wants his nails painted now?”

Even if she didn't see why the red was creeping across his face, his face was still warm enough that he didn't quite want to meet either of their eyes as he rubbed the back of his neck. “....Sure. Can you get me something that’s black? And not glittery?”

“Uuu!” After a glance over her hoard of paints, polish, and various other things that Battler had no idea how related to nails, she dashed off, presumably to find some, leaving him alone with Beato. After a moment of complete and uncharacteristic silence from his wife, broken only by her blowing on her nails, he finally cleared his throat to speak. 

“So, out of curiosity, how’d she end up doing this?” He gestured to the table, covered in polish, towels, and those foam finger thingies. Beato just spread her hands, palms up but careful not to touch the table, and cackled.

“Hoh? Have you never been privy to such a kind maiden’s flights of fancy?” 

“Erm, you’re going to need to elaborate.”

“It’s no different from the boy who sees his father tie a tie, and decide to raid his closet for them. Did Ange never do anything like that when she was younger?” She gave him a curious glance, despite the intricacies of the human side of Rokkenjima giving the person who was Beato far more time together with his younger sister. But, at least, her analogy made a rare degree of logical sense; he definitely did something like that, even if it was less ties and more secretly raiding his old bastard's porn collection.

“Not really. Kyrie wasn’t really a nail person.” Though to be honest, the image of Kyrie with fancy, glimmering nails filed into deadly points almost made him chuckle. 

“That I can see. Though, she seems like the type to not turn that down when offered to her.”

“Because you pestered her into having Maria do them?” The chuckle ran off his tongue as his mind automatically conjured the scene; Beatrice, her aura of absolute, unyielding power floating around her like the villain in some anime, very forcefully telling Kyrie that she would spend the next half hour having her nails painted by a nine-year-old.

She’d smiled as she leaned onto her palm, careful not to touch her nails. “I’m glad you understand me, Battler.”

“Well, it’s not like you didn’t trick me into exactly the scenario.”

“Triiiicked? Ushiromiya Battler, swayed so easily by his wife calling him handsome, would claim he was triiiicked?” she howled, eyes ducking briefly behind glimmering nails as she laughed. 

“L-look!” He wasn’t tricked, just…persuaded! Beatrice was a powerful being, able to command the forces of both life and death alike, as well as the forces of his heart, simply by giving him a cute, soft, lovely, endearing, charming smile!! Such a force was impossible for a mere mortal to resist!!!

“Why would I ever suggest anything otherwise? Watching your reactions to such things are like being handed an entire platter of soufflé! It’s charming in a way that not even the most beautiful town in the world could ever match.” Ah, ah! There it was, the tactical strike! To lower his guard, and then go in directly for the kill! If he wasn’t to counterattack, such a statement would go directly through his heart!

He had to go on the offensive, as he laid a hand on her forehead, gently ruffling her bangs just a little with his thumb. “That road goes two ways,  _ darling _ .” 

He had learned very quickly that Beatrice's language of love was gentle teases, the sort of friendly barbs shared between two close friends. Such emotional intimacy was enough of a weakness that a slow, enunciated  _ I love you _ , whispered in her ear, would score an immediate KO. He could already see the gentle, soft nickname’s effect, draining her HP as her face heated up. “W-what was that?”

“What I’m saying is, what goes around comes around, doesn’t it,  _ love of my life _ ?” Ah, that honeyed tone to the last couple words seemed to be just that, the perfect counterattack to get her posture tense for just a second before firing back. 

“W-well, Battler,” Beato paused a little to close her eyes, readying herself to attack. “Must such a _lovely_ ,  well-mannered man engage in this kind of bantering nonsense?”

“You seem to enjoy that nonsense,  _ love _ . If memory serves, you’re usually the one to initiate it.” He felt the words slip out of his mouth before even thinking as he slowly regained his proverbial footing while his mind flickered back to previous encounters like this. Thanks to her rowdiness, they had been banned from at least three restaurants in Heaven, with an additional five giving them a very clear  _ do not come back unless you two can properly control yourselves. _

_ “ _ Hoh, as if you never play along. _ ”  _ Ah, that smile he just got pierced with turned his heart to mush as it fluttered, slowly turning to liquid. “What was it that you said your ideal woman was like, again?”

_ “ _ Ah, I remember. Blonde and bouncy, with an awful personality to match. _ ” _

“Awful personality, you saaaay? Is it really worth this kettle of a breast sommelier to be talking to the pot of a witch like that?” As usual, she spoke with a laugh, spitting out those confusing metaphors that he only half understood. 

“You know, I’ve been meaning to-you know expert sommeliers often require quite vigorous reexamining of wines they’ve drank before?” The phrase sent Beato into a howling cackle as she slammed her palm onto the table over and over. 

“Hoh? And you want to reexamine me? Can you prove that in reeeeeed?” She gave him that cruel, laughing, teasing grin, her cute little fang peeking out from the edge of her lip as she stood up to lean over him, still careful to keep her fingers free of touching anything.

“Are you questioning the standards and practices of the inter-fragmentary boob sommelier alliance? They’re an extremely accredited organization, you know.” He moved just a little, so that he was within her grasp, ripe for the picking. And pick she did, as her fingers, warm and soft, touched his chin, guiding it down so that only she was within his vision. Gently, he reached his to touch her, at the wrist but slowly gliding up towards his face—

“Beato’s going to get her nails gummed up if she touches things, uuu.” Oh. That was. That was Maria. It took barely a fraction of a second for his hand to leave Beato’s as she turned to Maria, somewhat less embarrassed about this.

“Ah, my apologies. I don’t think I messed them up, though.” Beato presented her hand for her apprentice to approve with a solemn  _ uuu _ , before she’d turned to Battler himself with a tub of pitch-black matte polish.

“I have a color for Battler! He’ll need to put his fingers in the thingy though.”

“The thingy?” Like the foam thingy that people used for feet? That thingy?

“I think it’s called a finger separator,” Beato added.

“All the guys didn’t know how to get their nails painted and kept touching things, so they kept gumming it up, uuu. So they needed it.”

He didn’t get why the separator had to be pink, but it wasn’t  _ that _ big a blow to his long-suffering male pride. 

Maria, like all other times, seemed to be laser-focused on what she was doing. She didn’t seem to mind the smell of the polish as she dipped the brush in and carefully started going over his nails with surprisingly cold liquid. 

“You can stabilize your hand if you rest it on the table instead of holding it over the table,” Beato said helpfully. “It helps with the shaking.”

Maria nodded and went back to work, slowly painting all of Battler’s nails with a ( _okay_ , Beato was right, it was pretty) pitch-black shade before turning back to him. 

“You need to wait for it to dry.” She gave a sort of nod that her craft was, at least, acceptable before speaking.

“I’ll be sure to keep him from touching things! Thank you, apprentice witch Maria. This is truly work befitting a powerful witch.” Seeing Maria’s face completely light up like that was worth the nail painting, he decided, even after she ran back to the other areas in the realm to try and recruit more unwitting victims. 

Maria did a pretty okay job, for a nine year old. It was mostly within the lines, and seemed to be pretty even. He had no real idea what you were supposed to look for in manicures, really, but still. It looked okay. 

“So how long does it take these to dry, again?” For all he knew, Maria could’ve trapped him in some sort of ritual of not touching anything that lasted well over five hours.

“Mmm, maybe half an hour.”

“That long?!” He rolled his head around on the table. Granted, half an hour with Beato could never possibly be described as boring, but it was still a ridiculously long time! He could read maybe twenty pages of a book during that!

“Even the weakest magic rituals take time to prepare, Battleeeer. Did you forget that?”

“This is a manicure, Beato. Not a ritual.”

“Both require time and concentration to get perfect. It’s an art, no different from putting paint to canvas.” She gave a glance at her hands, and he could, for the first time, see strange runes painted atop the surface in black, the kind that took time and effort to scrawl, regardless of the surface. That made a bit more sense; especially given how fancy some of Gaap’s nail artwork could be. 

“Mmm, I guess that could be true. How do you even sit still for that long?” Beatrice was a creature of movement, constantly moving her hands, her body if left alone for too long; she had to drink a weak sleeping draught before bed, else she would spend the night tossing and turning. To see her sitting relatively still was surprising. 

“A thousand years’ worth of training,” she cackled. 

“Funny, a thousand years’ worth of living doesn’t seem to have made you very good at kissing,” he joked, giving a chuckle when she’d gotten that one look on her face that almost screamed trouble. 

“There’s always more time to practice,” she whispered, standing up all at once and moving, in a single fluid motion to wrap her fingers around his neck, thumbs caressing his cheek, her lips quickly moving to close the gap.

The kiss that followed was  _ absolutely _ worth the lecture from Maria that yes, he messed up his nails because he touched things, so he needed them redone. 


End file.
